Jess M


Copyright, Jess M

I started cutting when I was about twelve. It all started when I was in 7th grade, when I was molested/raped by an older guy who was in high school. I was at a friend’s house, and her older brother had one of his friends over. Well I was left alone with this older guy, and he suddenly started poking and grabbing me. I wanted him to stop so I pushed him back. He got mad, so he grabbed me and took me into one of the bed rooms. He wrestled me onto the bed, and started hitting me, and trying to take off my pants, I was struggling as hard as I could, but he was so much bigger than me. He ripped my pants off and started to rape me. It hurt so bad, but all I could do was cry. I was too exhausted from trying to fight back that I couldn’t even lift my arms. After he finished, he warned me that if I ever told anyone he would kill me. I was so scared that I just got my pants, put them on and ran home as fast as I could. My parents weren’t home, and I was glad because I didn’t want to explain what had happened. I never did tell anyone, and it never happened again.

After that I became very reclusive and kept to myself. I started getting really depressed and suicidal. I had no idea on how to deal with it. Then I remember hearing about people who SI, I thought ‘maybe that might help me’. I knew it was wrong at that the time, but I just didn’t care. I started to do it and really helped. I was doing up to ten times a day almost. It got to a point where I was so addicted to it, I sometimes would cut in school. In a way I wanted to see the blood to make sure I was still alive because I felt so dead inside. So my way of making me feel alive was to cut and see the blood drain. But no one ever noticed because I always wore a jacket and pants. Then when I turned fourteen we moved from Southern California, to Southern Jersey. I was so upset I left everything I had ever known behind, family, friends. I hated life, I still do but not as much. I was still cutting, but because of the move it had gotten worse. I tried to stop but I was so addicted to it, and still no one noticed. At least that’s what I thought. Apparently a lot of people knew that just didn’t care, even some of my best friends knew but never said anything. Finally by mid sophomore year I started getting help. I went to the doctor, and told him about the depression, and cutting. He prescribed me an anti-depressant, and told me to try therapy. It’s gotten better, but I have realized how wrong cutting is. All it did was temporarily take away pain, and left permanent scars. Please anyone thinking of SI’ing stop, don’t do it. It’s not worth the pain and scars you cause yourself.


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